Excerpts from book i'll never write.

Do we need chapters? Pt. 1

''I never quite understood why girls would cry over their broken hearts, or whine about how much 'he loved her' or spend their days constantly thinking of him. But then I fell, I fell hard. And it all became so clear: the late nights, endless tears, the constant babbling. It suddenly made perfect sense.— Classy

''Your meaningful conversations are just white noise to someone else.''— (s.t.)

'' I couldn't feel anything anymore. Well that wasn't true, not exactly, I was numb. Not the kind of numb you feel when your depression hits you so badly breathing is an effort. No, no, the kind where you're just blank. When you stare off and get so upset that you can't feel anything, but all you want to do is feel. The numbness hits you worst when you've got the girl you adore talking to you and all you can think of is how boring you are. Then you think, she's going to love you whether you talk about the books she loves or your deadly feelings, having a dry conversation every once in a while won't kill you both. Resting should help but there's no promises of it. So you tell her you'll sleep it off and take some time for yourself. You will be okay.''— (s.t.)

''the ghost of you, my favourite fever dream
you haunt the edges of my periphery
the phantom of your laugh lingers on my lips
staring at the wall, drunk on your kiss''

— (s.t.)

''to call my house a home is a sin because most of the time all i ever feel is alone between these four walls.''

— tumblr// drowningpoetry

''Can't say I don't miss you. You always told the sweetest lies.''

— =|

''We used to have plans for the future
now all we have is a broken heart
and its painful suture.''

— cantwatchyouburn // tumblr

''he's gotta kiss like novocaine and i've got lips made of pain.''

— a perfect match ( prolixen )

''Don't look at me
like I'm something
to behold;
that is for art
and I'm not
going to hang
on the wall
of your
museum.''— not your canvas // K.A.

''We went to the aquarium last Monday, and everyone kept saying how beautiful the fish were.

Of course they were lovely, but you held my hand all along, and darling I swear no tropical, multi-coloured fish could have been more beautiful than this.''

— (s.t.)